Another Day, Brotha!
by jbdean
Summary: Desmond tries to pick up the pieces of his life now that he's outside of the hatch.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Another Day, Brotha!

Author: jbdean ©

Rating: G

Summary: First morning out of the bunker.

The warm sunshine on his face woke him from the first sound sleep he'd had in three years. Slowly he opened his eyes and took a moment to collect his thoughts and realize where he was.

"Ahhh, I'm outside," Desmond thought to himself.

Extending his arms out, he released a long grunt as he stretched. While his neck was a bit stiff from having spent the night on the jungle's ground, he never felt so alive. He pointed his toes down and then pulled them up ... repeating the movements several times before he was ready to rise and face the day. As he stood, he reached for his backpack and took one of the small glass bottles out and held it in his hand, up to the sunlight. His eyes studied it as if he'd never seen it before. They seemed to be thinking, 'Where did this come from?' Giving it a slight toss, he quickly grabbed it back and reached in with his other hand to pull out the administrator. Slipping the glass vial into a contraption that resembled a cross between a caulking gun and a vice, he slid his left arm out from his jumpsuit and injected the contents of the bottle into his upper arm. As he placed the items back into his bag, he took a moment to count how many of the the little vials he had.

"Should have grabbed more ... " he muttered to himself.

He zipped up the bag, got to his feet and slung the pack over one shoulder as he took a look around for any clue to help him decide which way he should go. Just as he started to head off through a grove of bamboo, he heard a noise in the bushes close by. Wheeling around, he reached for the rifle that he had not been able to bring with him when he escaped the bunker. Coming up empty handed, he darted into the thick of the bamboo and stood, quietly waiting to see if whatever had made that sound was going to show itself.

A moment, that seemed like an eternity, passed as he waited. Then, out of the brush, emerged a large boar mother and a smaller version of herself. They rooted around the earth, sniffed the air and stood still. The mother boar turned her head to face the bamboo grove. Desmond was in deep enough to not be seen but the primal instincts of the wild Suidae led her right to where he stood. Desmond wondered if the boar would attack and, knowing he had nothing to defend himself with, took a slow step further backward. He was beginning to sweat as he thought that, while being in the bunker for three years entering the code and pushing the execute button had more than taken its toll on him, right now he couldn't think of a better place to be and almost wished he was still there. Taking one more small step back, a branch crunched beneath his foot and startled the baby and she let out a loud squeal. The mother quickly turned and went to the child's aid and, seeing it was fine, quickly lost interest in the strange new scent she had picked up within the bamboo grove. Desmond watched patiently as the two vanished back into the brush as quickly as they had emerged. He let out a long sigh, turned and headed deeper into the bamboo.

As he exited the bamboo grove, Desmond took a moment to get his bearings. It had been so long since he'd really been to the surface that everything just looked the same. He also realized that in three years the terrain would have changed. But he felt he was going in the right direction so he turned slightly to his left and continued on through the jungle.

Images of Jack's tear streaked face kept returning to him. He couldn't shake them no matter how hard he tried. He wished he could have stayed longer and tried to console Jack. He didn't know him, he told himself, he did the best he could in the time he had. But if things had been different, he would have stayed and tried to get to the bottom of Jack's pain. Something had happened between Jack and Sarah ... something terrible. Had she died? Had whatever it was that was wrong with her come between them? Had she cheated on him? A million questions with not one single answer.

It was then that Desmond noticed a clearing up ahead of him. He knew at that moment he must be going in the right direction. His legs ached, not from lack of exercise but from the uneven ground beneath him. It was a far cry from the stationery bicycle he rode every day. But seeing the clearing brought new-found energy to his tired legs and he trudged onward.

As he entered the clearing, Desmond could see the overgrowth of vines that covered what he had been hoping to come across. He came up closer to the vines and when finally standing in front of them he let go with a huge smile and moved a large portion away with one smooth stroke of his arm. Just behind the vines, about 4 or 5 feet in, was a large metal door. It was an exact duplicate of the door to his bunker that he had left by. On the door he saw a familiar emblem. An octagon with several lines within it and a circle in the middle but instead of the SWAN that was on his walls back "home," this one only said DHARMA. He began to turn the handle and, at first, it wouldn't move but putting all his weight on it, it finally lunged downward and he heard the latch spring loose. Slowly he pulled the heavy door open and stepped inside to be met by a similar second door. This door opened with little effort and Desmond stepped inside the bunker.

It was dark inside and as he fumbled in his backpack for a flashlight he heard the sound of running water. Flicking on the flashlight, he let the beam lead him toward the sound of the water. Down a long dark tunnel, Desmond walked onward. The beam catching a glimpse of strange multi-colored paintings on both walls of the hall. But he had no time to look at them. He had to see if she was still there. Still waiting for him after all these years. It would be wonderful to see her again ... it had been much too long.

The hallway was longer than Desmond remembered or was it just his anticipation that made it seem that way? He felt like he had been trudging down the dank passageway for days and yet he knew it couldn't have been more than half an hour. The sound of the water was the only thing that kept him going ... knowing he was heading in the right direction.

Suddenly the stone floor beneath his feet took a noticeable down sloping and he quickened his pace because he knew now he was only moments away. Hurrying even more, he came to the end of his journey. Though as covered by vines as the entrance door had been, he could smell the salt air and hear the water as it lapped on the secluded shoreline that lay just outside the opening at the end of the passageway. Stepping up to the vines, he thrust his arm, shoulder and then his whole body through and came bounding out onto the clean white sand that looked just as it did when he first set foot on it 3 years before.

Standing there, looking out onto the blue-green ocean, whitecaps gently rolling in one-by-one, the sun overhead giving the palm trees an orange sheen and the water a warm glimmer from its reflection, Desmond's mind wandered back to the day he first saw this stretch of beach.

He had been sailing for nearly 6 months when he spotted what looked like land through his telescope. He had checked and rechecked his map and was certain there wasn't supposed to be any land in this section of the ocean and yet there it was, as plain as the deck under his feet. As he got closer he could make out a large mountain on the eastern side of what looked like one of the largest islands he had ever seen. He couldn't see any signs of civilization except for a large pillar of black smoke that rose up from the middle of the island. An experience sailor, Desmond still mentally kicked himself when he thought about what happened next.

So intent on looking through his telescope at the strange uncharted island, he totally lost track of sailing too close to the reef. He was on a solo journey around the world, trying to break his own previous record of 5 years before. He was in a race against himself and up until the very next moment, he had been ahead of schedule.

He nearly fell overboard when his ship, The Nairne (which is Scottish and means "From the river") violently struck the reef. His telescope flew out of his hands and plunged into the sea. It took all of his strength to not follow in after it. Once he could get to his feet, he dashed to the ship's wheel and tried to steer her clear of hitting the reef again but it was all in vain. The Nairne had lodged into what must have been a jutting piece of coral and the strong current was dragging her along it, ripping her wide open as it went. The sounds of creaking wood as it tore open the hull, had the erie similarity of a woman's voice crying out in pain. Desmond knew that it was only a matter of minutes before she would begin to take on water and be lodged there for good. Quickly he ran below deck and stuffed a blue backpack with a few things he knew he'd need if he made it to shore. Some clothes, a flashlight, a knife and a few tins of food. Zipping up the bag, he glanced once more around his cabin and spotted the photo of Fiona and him resting on a small shelf over his bunk. Gabbing the photo he stuck it into a zip-lock plastic bag that he had for storing left-over food and, sealing it, stuffed it into the backpack, closed it and hooked it over his arms. As he climbed back on desk, he could see that The Nairne had stopped moving and knew she was well lodged but beyond sailing any further. He stood, for a moment, on the edge of the deck taking one last look at his love ... the ship that had brought him around the world 5 years before and now lay lifeless at the mercy of the reef. He felt his eyes begin to water but quickly got ahold of himself and leapt into the sea.

"There'll be time for tears once I'm ashore ... " he thought as the water came up around him.

With the bag on his back, swimming was slow but he finally made it to land. As he stood on the white sand, he looked back out at his Nairne and could see her still there, as if waiting for him to come back and get her. It was shortly after that that Desmond was found by Kelvin and taken back to the bunker. They had only made a few trips back to this spot before Kelvin died. They had managed to drag The Nairne to shore where she still lay after 3 years in this cove that was cut off from the rest of the island and therefore never seen by anyone since Kelvin died ... that is until now.

Desmond slowly walked up to the now weathered schooner and gently lay a hand on her side.

"It's been too long, Love," he said, the tears beginning to blur his vision. He rested his head against the wood, warm by the sun. "But I came back." The breeze kicked up and it made the little boat groan as it moved slightly from the wind. It was almost as if she were crying, too ... almost as if she were saying, "I waited for you. I knew you'd be back. Here I am ... I'll never leave you again!"

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Another Day, Brother - Chapter 2 (original chapters 1-3 combined here to make ch. 1)

Author: jbdean ©

Rating: G

Summary: Still later that same day.

Rummaging around in The Nairne's cabin was difficult for Desmond. One, it brought back a lot of memories and two, the boat had been sitting outside for so long almost everything was either covered in dust and sand or ruined from the sea's salt. But he was finding some things salvageable. The bunk mattress, while a bit moldy, was still comfortable enough to sleep on and after a good airing, he thought, it would be fine to sleep on in a day or two. As he was dragging it outside, it caught on the corner of a drawer that was open an inch or two. As he tugged harder, the drawer slid open a bit more and sparked his attention. Letting the mattress flop to one side, Desmond shimmied around it and made his way to the cabinet that housed the drawer. As he wiggled it free from years of swelling due to the sea and elements, he saw something inside that he'd forgotten about.

Setting the small gray metal box on a counter, he thought for a second and then turned the combination on the padlock. One try and and a few tugs and the lock sprang open. He slipped it out from the strongbox's latch and gently laid it on the counter next to the box. As he reached to open the lid the palms of his hands began to sweat and he could feel his heart begin to speed up. Desmond wiped his hands on the legs of his DHARMA coveralls and then, slowly, lifted the lid of the strongbox. Inside, just where he had left them, were two bundles. One of a large yellowish envelope and the other a collection of envelopes with a lovely woman's handwriting on their face, these were tied with a silky red and green ribbon.

First he took out the large envelope and ran a finger under the flap to open it. The envelope immediately expanded from its contents ... a wad of American bills, hundreds, that totaled $45,000. A large smile spread across Desmond's face as he thought back to how he'd come to have this much cash and then a loud laugh filled the tiny cabin as he realized there was no need for money where he was now.

But the laugh faded quickly as his eyes landed once more on the neatly bundled letters still in the strongbox. Laying the money aside, he reached gently in and lifted out the letters as if he were carrying a tiny kitten or little chick; afraid they might crumble in his hands from age if he moved too quickly. He just held them for a long time, looking at the feminine penmanship that spelled out his name and address ... and hers in the upper left corner. He put them to his nose and deeply inhaled. The smell of her perfume had long faded but in his mind it was as strong as if she were right there with him ... her neck gently cradling his face so that he could enjoy her scent to the fullest.

"Fiona ... " he let out with a sigh. "Oh, Fiona. Where are you now?"


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Another Day, Brother - Chapter 3

Author: jbdean ©

Rating: G

Summary: The next day.

Desmond stirred in his bunk. Without the mattress, it was not a comfortable sleep. For a brief moment he missed his top bunk bed back in his old living quarters. But as he caught a whiff of the sea air, he quickly tossed that longing aside and concentrated on his new-found freedom. As he sat up, stiff from the night's sleep, he slowly stretched and then swung his feet over and onto the floor. Placing his hands at his side, to boost himself out of bed, he touched Fiona's letters -- still tied in the red and green ribbon. He turned his head and looked down on the small bundle and smiled a half smile. He took up the bundle and placed it in the inside breast pocket of the DHARMA coveralls he was still wearing. Bending over, he slipped on his boots and laced them up. One more long stretch and Desmond headed for his backpack where he removed one small tin and a can opener. He had grabbed the few food items so quickly that he wasn't sure what he'd come away with. But it didn't matter. He was hungry and happy to have something to eat until he could forage and find more food ... something he knew he had to begin doing that very day. The tin was sardines in oil. How he wished he had some crackers to go with them but wishing wasn't going to make it so, something he'd come to accept after three years of being a prisoner in that bunker, so he ate the sardines on their own and was glad for it. He then took a bottle from his backpack and, finding a glass on a shelf, poured himself a few fingers of the whiskey he'd brought along. It didn't mix too well with the oily fish but it was wet and gave him a warm feeling in his stomach, for which he was grateful. A little liquid courage never hurt, he told himself.

Desmond stepped up onto the deck of The Nairne and looked out at the horizon. The day was bright and clear and the waves were barely visible as they gently rolled up onto the shore. Turning his glance toward the sky, he saw only a few clouds and could already feel the strong tropical sun as it warmed the deck railings beneath his hands. Slowly, he glanced around and took in his full surroundings. He could see the vine covered mountain base that hid the entrance back into the bunker that was the main DHARMA post on the island. To the right of that was a dense grove of bamboo and palm trees that led into an area of jungle that he had yet to explore. To the left he saw more beach that was cut off from outsiders by a small grove of brush and a jut from the mountain ... another area he had yet to explore. Slowly he stepped back down into his cabin to retrieve his fishing pole and tackle box.

Back on the beach, Desmond had cast his line into the fairly calm waters and secured the pole in the sand. With nothing yet to bait the hook, he had little hope of catching anything and set off quickly toward a tidal pool he noticed a few yards away in hope of finding something ... a crab, a sea urchin, anything he could use for bait. Luck was with him because no sooner had he stepped up to the tidal pool than he spotted a sea slug. This would make for good bait, he thought. He carried it back to his boat where he sliced it up and then went directly to his pole to add it to the hook. As Desmond cast his line back into the sea and repositioned his pole, he looked out at the huge ocean and felt a wave of panic as he knew he had to find fresh water soon. While the whiskey would do for a bit, he'd dehydrate if he didn't find water quickly. Deciding to let the fishing go on its own, he turned and headed off into the bamboo grove.

It was hard making his way through the close growing stalks of bamboo and it slowed him down more than he'd hoped. But there soon appeared a small clearing where he also found a large coconut tree that, upon closer inspection, appeared to have four or five ripe coconuts ready for picking. He untied his boots and slipped both them and his socks off and went directly to shimming up the trunk of the tall tree. He was glad, again, that he had kept up his exercising while in the bunker and while it wasn't an easy feat, he managed to get to the top in a fairly short time. Balancing himself with his feet and one free hand, he reached into his left hip pocket and produced a knife whose blade shot out with the press of a small trigger on the handle. Quickly Desmond went to work to cut down as many of the tree's fruit as he could. Managing to sever four, he then let the knife drop and shimmied back down the tree's trunk. On the ground again, he folded the knife and returned it to his pocket. He'd forgotten to bring his backpack so in order to carry the large coconuts, he slipped off his coveralls and placed them inside. He then zipped up the suit, tied off the legs and arms, and hoisted the homemade pouch over his neck and one arm like a sling and headed back to the beach.

No sooner had Desmond emerged from the small bamboo grove than he noticed his fishing pole bobbing up and down. He had a bite! Slipping the coverall-sling off, he dashed to his rod and reeled in his catch. It wasn't as big as a swordfish but it was big enough to fill him up. He unhooked the fish, used his knife to kill it and then proceeded to gut and scale it. He laid the fish on the deck of his boat and removed a small hand ax from a storage seat on deck and took it down to the coconuts he'd left in the sand. After removing one from his coveralls, he skillfully hacked at it until he came to the shell inside the thick green husk. He took it, the other coconuts and coveralls and the fish back into the cabin and began to prepare his meal.

Pulling out a chopping board, Desmond began to slice the fish in thin strips and thought about all the Japanese cuisine he'd had over his lifetime. What he had before him would have cost a pretty penny in a nice restaurant and he chuckled to himself at having caught it on his own and on nearly his first try. He took his knife out again and bore through the eyes of the coconut and poured the sweet milk into a new glass. Whacking the nut on the edge of the counter, it split and he pulled the pieces apart to get at the meat. It wasn't a meal set for a king but it was good and filling. Desmond ate every last bite and downed the coconut milk. He then went back out to bring in his fishing pole and tackle box as he didn't want to take any chances that someone might see them and know he was there. He doubted that Jack or Locke or the girl would find him this quickly but he did recall that Locke had told him there were over 40 other survivors of that plane crash and he didn't know if they were as likeable as Locke or as hot headed as Jack and he didn't want to take any chances.

He took a seat on one of the two benches the small cabin offered and propped himself up with a couple of faded pillows. He was a little sleepy after his meal and thought a nap would do him good. As he began to doze off, he thought of the letters in his coveralls and reached across to the table where they lay to retrieve them. Again he put them to his nose and inhaled deeply. Fiona wore a lovely scent that reminded him of roses and heather. She made the perfume herself from wild flowers and no other woman had ever had the same scent as she did. He wondered if she still wore that same perfume and if some other man was now enjoying its intoxicating smell. He clutched the bundle of letters to his chest and let his eyes, now very heavy with sleep, close slowly. As he drifted off to sleep he could see Fiona standing on the dock as he set sail for his solo race around the world. Her blonde hair picking up the sun's rays and her soft skin pink from the flush of the warm day all came back like a wave washing over him. He just let himself enjoy her image and hoped it would continue into his dreams.

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Another Day, Brother - Chapter 4

Author: jbdean ©

Rating: G

Summary: Later that night.

The sun felt good on his face as he kept a firm hand on The Nairne's rudder. They were fairly far out from shore, Fiona and he, but not so far out that a few gulls hadn't found them.

He watched as she held up bits of fish to the huge gray and white birds, as they hung in mid-air over her head as if they were suspended by invisible wires. He watched as each one took its turn, gently taking the fish from her long slender fingers. Normally, gulls would be loud and rowdy as they fought to get their scraps but it was always different when Fiona would feed them. She had a way with animals that calmed them, and it calmed him to watch her with an animal. Soon there were at least ten gulls floating over her head, each one going in to take their food and moving out so the next one could feed. It never ceased to amaze him. She was never bitten or blessed with their droppings. It was as if she and they, all animals, had a silent communication between them.

"You're going to spoil them, Fiona. They need to hunt for their food ... you know that," Desmond's words broke the silence like a harpoon.

She smiled, sweetly, never turning to look away from her charge. "I'm nearly out here, sweet. Just a few more ... " She reached into the bucket where the smelt lay on ice and tossed the last one up to one of the smaller birds. "There you go," she spoke to it directly. "That's all I have ... for now." She smiled, again, at each one separately and as if they spoke her language each one turned on the wind and flew back toward shore.

"I'm going below to wash up and clean out this bucket," she said as she lifted the aluminum pail. "You want anything while I'm down there?"

She turned for a brief moment while she spoke to him and the sun caught on her hair and skin like a golden veil. His heart swelled with the love he had for her as he managed to whisper his reply, "Just for you to hurry back top side."

"Aye, aye 'capin'!" she said as she turned and vanished below the deck.

It had been nearly two years since he had met her. At a friend's insistance Desmond had attended a New Year's Eve party. Never having been one for parties, he felt out of place and hung close to the wall, clutching his drink like it was the Crown Jewels. He'd been there about an hour and there was still 45 minutes until midnight. Looking around at all the couples, Desmond suddenly felt out of place and decided he'd just slip out and go home. Placing his drink on the table, he went to the bedroom and got his coat. A quick glance at the crowd showed him that his host was deep in conversation with a pretty brunett and wouldn't notice him leaving. He headed to the door and let himself out. He had just reached the bottom of the steps when light from his friend's front door spilled out onto the steps and sidewalk. Quickly, Desmond moved into the shadows, thinking his friend had come looking for him but as he peeked around a bush that blocked him from view, he saw another guest making an early exit. She had her back to him as she quietly closed the door and when she headed down the steps, the street lamp gave off just enough light so that he could see her lovely features.

"I don't recall her being at the party," Desmond thought to himself. "If I'd seen here there, I'd have stayed!" He watched as she turned away from him and headed down the sidewalk.

Desmond had stood watching her walk until it dawned on him that he might never find out who this lovely creature was if he didn't go after her. Moving out from behind the bush, he quickened his steps so that he reached her in little to no time. They both stood beside each other in silence as they waited for the light to change so they could cross the street. As the light changed, Desmond was thinking of a way to start a conversation as the young woman stepped off the curb into the crosswalk. No sooner had she taken two steps than a motorcycle came around the corner, disregarding their red light and nearly ran her over. Desmond quickly grabbed for her arm and pulled her back to him. Without any hesitation, the woman threw her arms around Desmond's neck and buried her face in his chest. It seemed like an eternity that they stood like that in the night air. He gently held her and rested his cheek against her hair. It was the first time he had gotten a whiff of her perfume. That lovely scent that was a mixture of vanilla and wild flowers. Slowly she turned her face up toward his and he looked down at her. His brown eyes meeting her blue, his brown hair mingled with her gold. He clearly remembered thinking, "This is someone I could fall in love with ..."

Then, as suddenly as he had pulled her into his arms, she stepped back. Blushing, she began to apologize for her not seeing the motorcyclist and thanking him for being there to save her. He gave the usual polite "It was nothing," and "Just glad I was here," when what he really wanted to say was, "You smell wonderful! You're so beautiful! Will you marry me?" But just when he thought he'd made himself sound like a dim-whitt, she spoke again.

"I'm Fiona, Fiona Dunn."

"Fiona," he thought to himself. "What a beautiful name!" But what came out was, "Hi ... I'm Desmond. Desmond MacLachlan."

"Well, Desmond MacLachlan, let me buy you a cup of tea. It's the least I can do for your saving my life." She smiled at him in a way that made it impossible to say no ... even though it would have been impossible even if she hadn't. Desmond was falling in love.

"You in there?" Fiona asked, bringing Desmond back to the present. He looked up at her and smiled.

"Yes, yes I'm in here," he took one of his arms and wrapped it around her waist and pulled her down on his lap. "Want to join me?"

She giggled softly against his cheek and whispered her 'yes' in his ear. He hugged her with his one arm and kissed her neck. "Just let me toss the anchor over and I'm all yours."

Fiona sat at the rudder, watching as Desmond hoisted the heavy anchor overboard and stood watching it to make sure it sank properly. "You're such an excellent sailor," she said. He turned and looked at her over his shoulder and smiled.

"And you're an excellent sailor's wife!"

Suddenly Desmond woke up. It was night and he was disoriented. "Where am I?" He asked the darkness. He felt uneasy and as if something unusual had awakened him. Sitting in the dark, he listened ... to what he wasn't sure but he felt there was something he should be hearing. Then, as if in reply to his curiosity, he heard it. A loud banging that was hitting the outside of his boat. It was as if someone was walking with a club on deck. He strained to follow the sound. Yes, it was someone on deck. He could tell that the banging was moving from one end of the boat to the other.

He jumped up from his bunk and flung the hatch door open. As he stuck his head out, he looked around quickly, trying to find the cause of the noise. In the pale moonlight he caught a glimpse of what looked like a person jumping off the deck and onto the sand. Quickly he climbed out from the hatch and made his way to the railing where he'd seen the person jump. He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He saw, at least he thought he saw, two or three people running off into the jungle but they were so fast that he wasn't sure if they were people, animals or just his imagination. But the banging, he knew he'd heard that. It had to have been people or an animal. But if it was people, who were they? Were they part of John and Jack's plane survivors? For some strange reason, Desmond didn't think so. He felt quite unsettled by the whole event and decided he'd sit watch on deck for the rest of the night.

CONTINUED


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Another Day, Brother - Chapter 5

Author: jbdean ©

Rating: G

Summary: Later that night and next day.

Desmond darted back to his cabin to grab his knife and then quickly returned topside. He'd had much more sleep in the past day and a half than he'd had at any one time for years so he was well rested and alert. But he knew, without a lamp he'd have to rely on the moonlight and while it was bright enough, its beams didn't reach into the jungle or shadows cast by the trees onto the sand. So he decided to put himself on deck watch and began his rounds. Starting at the port side, where he had seen his visitors vanish into the jungle, he began to walk toward the bow, then along the starboard side and down to the stern and back up to the port side. He kept this circling going until sunrise, stopping only briefly when he thought he heard or saw something. For most, the next few hours would have seemed like an eternity of monotony but for Desmond it felt good to at least feel like he was out at sea and doing his patrolling again.

Once the sun was up, Desmond hopped off The Nairne and followed the foot prints in the sand that led to the jungle. "I didn't imagine it," he thought to himself. "There was more than one of them and they are people." He opened his switch blade and began to enter the jungle when he heard a familiar sound behind him.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," the voice called out.

Desmond turned and saw the concerned face of John Locke as he stood, eyes squinting from the sun, with his right hand pointing toward the jungle.

"And why not, brotha?" Desmond asked with suspicion in his voice.

"Well, because I don't think that little knife is going to be much good to you if you come across one of _them_ ... " Locke answered in his quiet, soft manner ending with a smile.

Desmond glanced down at the knife in his hand, its blade was sharp but a knife did limit one in combat making it necessary to be close to one's attacker.

"And what would you suggest then?" Desmond asked Locke.

"Might be good if you came back with me and I showed you some things."

Desmond's posture straightened and he stood firmly in the sand. The last thing he'd wanted was to go back to that bunker and no matter what it was that Locke had to show him, going back there was not something he was looking forward to.

"What do you have to show me, brotha, that you can't say to me here and now?" Desmond was not going to follow Locke without a very good explanation first.

"Back at our camp," Locke began, "there are some people from our flight that just found us ... "

"Just?" Desmond questioned.

"Well, seems they were in the tail section of our plane and the three I told you about that left on the raft ... "

Desmond nodded as he recalled Locke's story of the raft.

"They came across them."

"Out at sea?" Desmond asked.

"No. No, they had some trouble at sea and they came across them when they got back to shore." Locke seemed obviously anxious to get the details over with. "Anyway, they're back at our camp now and I think they can tell you more about what's in that jungle there than I can ... and I think you'll want to know all you can before you head off looking for whomever you're looking for." Locke smiled again.

Desmond took a few steps toward Locke and stopped. "How do you know I was going in there to look for _someone_?" He pulled the knife up in front of himself. "Just how would you know that, brotha?"

Locke's expression changed to that of someone that knew he had to explain in a way that would make sense to Desmond. "I was watching you looking at the tracks ... from over there." Locke pointed to the vines that covered the exit door to the bunker Desmond had used to get to the beach. Looking back at Desmond, Locke gave a soft chuckle. "You're not as easy to track as a boar. It took me a bit to pick up your trail and I nearly lost you outside of the bamboo grove."

"You're a hunter? I thought you told me you were a box salesman." Desmond quizzed Locke.

"Oh, I am ... was. But there's a lot more to me than selling boxes."

"I'm beginning to see that, brotha." Desmond paused for a moment as he and Locke exchanged stares. Then, without any hesitation, Desmond folded up his knife, put it in his pocket and held out his right hand. "Well, best get movin' then, yea?"

Locke turned and headed back to the exit door of the bunker as Desmond followed him. Then, suddenly Desmond shouted, "Wait!"

Locke turned, "Huh?" he asked Desmond as he saw him running back to The Nairne.

"I need to get somethin' first!" he shouted to Locke over his shoulder.

Locke watched as Desmond vanished below deck and waited until he emerged. As Desmond jumped off the boat and was walking toward Locke, he noticed him stuffing some papers into the inside pocket of his DHARMA coveralls.

"Just somethin' I left behind three years ago and don't plan on ever letting out of my site again."

"Oh ... " Locke replied as he turned and headed into the vines and through the bunker's door.

As Locke vanished, Desmond turned and took a long look at The Nairne. "I'll be back, Luv. I promise. And it won't be another three years." Then he, too, disappeared beneath the vines and into the DHARMA bunker to follow after Locke.

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Another Day, Brother - Chapter 6

Author: jbdean ©

Rating: G

Summary: Later that day.

Both men were silent as they began down the long, dark hallway that lead them back to the main door. Suddenly Locke stopped and turned to face Desmond. Desmond, not being able to clearly see Locke ahead of him, slammed right into him as he stood, like a brick wall, blocking Desmond's path. Taking a few steps back, Desmond strained to see what had made Locke stop so abruptly.

"What's up, brotha?" His voice sounding hollow as it bounced off the stone walls.

Locke let out a short laugh. "I was just wondering how you knew about this place if the story you told us is true."

Desmond stood silently as he contemplated both the question and Locke's implications that he had lied to them. "I told you all I had time to tell you," he began. "I honestly thought no one would be able to fix the computer and time was not really on my side, yea?"

"That's true," Locke replied, "But you still knew about this place. How?"

Desmond realized that unless he gave Locke some answers, they'd never move from the spot where they were standing. "It's a long story, brotha."

"I've got lots of time," Locke said.

"True that is, true that is," Desmond said with a heavy sigh. "Let's say we get out into the sunlight and I'll tell you all that I know."

Desmond couldn't see Locke turning to head back down the hallway but he could hear his footsteps moving away from him so he followed after their sound. In about 15 minutes they began to see the faint sunlight that peaked through the door's window as the wind blew the vines that covered it.

Locke leaned against the heavy door as he turned the latch. It swung outward and the warm tropical air engulfed the two men like mosquito netting. Desmond followed Locke through the vines and stood looking at the landscape.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Locke asked Desmond.

"Yea." he quietly replied.

"I never get tired of it." Locke continued.

"Well, I sure haven't had anywhere near the chance myself." Desmond added.

Locke stepped closer to Desmond and waited for him to turn and face him. Once he did, Locke asked his question again. "So, how did you know about this other bunker?"

Desmond studied Locke's face for a moment and then looked at the vine covered door behind him and then back at Locke.

"Well," he began, "it all happened when Kelvin got sick." Desmond's mind went back to those earlier days when he and Kelvin had maned the computer as a team.

The buzzer was going off and Desmond awoke with a start. It had been Kelvin's turn to enter the numbers and yet the buzzer had been going off for longer than usual. He jumped out of bed and rushed into the computer room where he found the desk chair empty. Not waisting anytime to look for Kelvin, Desmond quickly entered the numbers and hit the execute button. The timer had reached 1:45 when it began to flip back to zero. Desmond sat watching it until it had finished its cycle. Once it had reset, he got up to look for Kelvin. It didn't take long to find him. He heard the sounds of someone getting sick in the bathroom and rushed in without asking permission. There he found Kelvin, hunched over the toilet bowl, throwing up.

Desmond stood watching him and when he thought the time was right he asked, "Kel, you okay?"

Kelvin didn't say anything but just kept his head over the bowl. Slowly he shook his head left to right to indicate that he was not well at all.

"You want me to leave you ... or you want me to get you something, brotha?" Desmond asked.

Again, Kelvin merely shook his head from left to right.

"Well, okay. I'll be outside if you need me." Desmond went to the door and then turned back. "I'll take over for you, Kel. When you feel up to it, go back to bed, yea?"

Kelvin nodded his head up and down to let Desmond know he agreed.

Outside the bathroom, Desmond thought over what he'd just seen. Kelvin had looked weak the past few days but he said it was just the lack of sunlight and it was wearing him down. But now, after seeing Kelvin in the bathroom, Desmond knew that it had to be more ... much more. Desmond went to the kitchen and fixed himself a power shake. He'd only had 4 hours sleep and now was taking on another shift. He'd need everything he could get to keep alert until Kelvin was back to his old self. As he sipped the shake, he worried that Kelvin might not get better. A moment of panic rushed through his veins as he thought about what it would be like if he was the only one to man the computer. "How can I do it alone?" he asked himself. "How?"

Desmond's thoughts were cut short as the bathroom door opened and a pale and visibly weak Kelvin stepped out into the main living area. Desmond sat his shake down and moved toward Kelvin but was stopped when his partner held up a hand to tell him not to come closer.

"You've got to stay away from me, Desmond." Kelvin told him in as strong a voice as he could muster. "I'm sick ... I've got it. The sickness."

Desmond took several steps back and bumped against the sink island in the kitchen. "The sickness? But how? How?" He was panicked now. If Kelvin was right and he did have the sickness that meant that Kelvin would be dead soon and that meant he'd be left alone ... alone to man the computer.

Kelvin didn't answer Desmond's question, he went to his bottom bunk and fell into it exhausted. Slowly, he turned to face Desmond, who had advanced to the middle of the living room and was looking in at Kelvin. "I don't know. Maybe I got it when I went outside to get you. I don't know ... "

Before Desmond could ask him anything else, Kelvin's eyes closed and if it were not for his heavy breathing, Desmond would have thought he'd died then and there.

Desmond went to the sofa and lay down. He had less than an hour left before the alarm would go off again. He tried to nap but his mind was racing and it was useless to try. He just lay there and let his mind go. There was really nothing else he could do ... not until he could get Kelvin to talk to him some more about the sickness.

TO BE CONTINUED


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Another Day, Brother - Chapter 7

Author: jbdean ©

Rating: G

Summary: Later that day.

The alarm was going off as Desmond pulled himself up from the sofa. He walked into the computer room and sat in the chair opposite the keyboard and monitor. Looking up at the counter, he slowly entered the numbers and then pressed the Execute button. The timer flipped back to zero and Desmond leaned back in the chair, letting his hands fall into his lap. He just stared at the monitor, watching the cursor blinking when he heard Kelvin making sounds in the bedroom ... sounds that weren't normal.

Desmond rushed into the bedroom and found Kelvin tossing in his lower bunk. Even from the doorway, where Desmond stood, he could see the beads of sweat on Kelvin's face and the whiteness of his knuckles as his hands clutched the covers. Desmond wanted to go to him, to try and ease the situation but he was afraid and that fear both guarded him and pained him.

Kelvin had done a lot for Desmond in the past year. He had rescued him when his boat ran against the reef, he had taken him in without knowing anything about him and treated him like a brother. He had shared his food with him, his companionship and, in what seemed like the end for Kelvin, he had thought only of himself and forbade Desmond from getting too close to him lest he share the one thing that should never be shared ... The Sickness. And yet, seeing Kelvin lying there in agony, Desmond felt he was betraying his friend by staying his distance. He needed him and yet Desmond could not bring himself to get closer than the door way.

Then, as if Kelvin was hearing Desmond's thoughts, his eyes opened and he turned toward his friend. Desmond stood perfectly still and watched as Kelvin's lips began to move. He was trying desperately to tell him something but Desmond couldn't hear him.

"I can't hear you, brotha," Desmond told Kelvin. "Let me come closer ... "

Kelvin began to shake his head violently, letting Desmond know that coming closer to him was not an option.

"I understand, Kel, but I can't tell what you're saying. I need to know what you're trying to tell me." Desmond explained.

Kelvin, as if getting strength from Desmond's determination, slowly raised himself up on his elbows and looked Desmond in the eyes. "You ... have to ... keep ... entering the ... numbers, Desmond. You can't stop ... never ... " Kelvin collapsed back onto his bunk, his face now as white as his knuckles.

Desmond stood watching Kelvin. "I will, brotha ... I promise you that. Savin' the world, right? You and me ... I won't let you down." Desmond felt the tears beginning to fill his eyes. He was sad that Kelvin was dying but more than that, he was afraid of being alone. This was nothing like sailing solo on his boat, nothing like it at all. He didn't know if he could do it alone but he knew he had to tell Kelvin that he would.

Suddenly, Kelvin was trying to speak again. Desmond took one step closer, wanting to hear but not wanting to make Kelvin strain again to speak. Kelvin turned to face Desmond and said, "Watch the film. It will tell you everything."

"The film? What film, Kel?" Desmond didn't know about an orientation film from DHARMA that was kept in the bunker.

"In the lock box, Des ... in the lock box ... watch the film and ... keep entering the numbers. Promise me ... promise ... me ..."

"I will ... I swear I will," Desmond replied as he crossed himself, for he knew Kelvin would be gone soon. "I love you, brotha," Desmond could no longer hold back the tears as they rolled down his cheeks. Kelvin stopped trying to speak and simply smiled at Desmond, confirming his love for him, too. And then he was gone.

It seemed like the exchange between Desmond and Kelvin had only been a few minutes and yet the alarm was sounding again. Desmond rushed into the computer room and quickly entered the numbers and hit Execute. Looking up at the counter, watching it flip back to zero, Desmond realized that being alone would also affect his ability to tell time accurately. He had no one now to balance things out for him. It was just him ... alone and for how long, he had no clue.

But for now, he had to figure out a way to lay Kelvin to rest and then he had to watch that film. As he stood, he wondered why Kelvin had never shown him the film before. And he felt that what it contained might just add to his problems instead of help them.

TO BE CONTINUED


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Another Day, Brother - Chapter 8

Author: jbdean ©

Rating: G

Summary: Later that evening.

Kelvin had been a lot heavier than Desmond had thought and getting to the second layer beneath the bunker's living quarters was a lot of work and exhausting. Two floors below the living quarters were where DHARMA had set up their disposal systems, Here was where the waste from the toilet went, out a large pipe to the sea and where the non-biodegradable refuge was incinerated. It was a large lead furnace-like apparatus that doubled as the means to heat their water for washing and cleaning. There was the familiar DHARMA logo on its front but the image was not that of the swan, as it was upstairs. It had what looked to Desmond to be molecules ... forming what he thought was DNA or some kind of genetic structure. He didn't have any idea why the logo was like this and didn't give it much thought now as he prepared to lay his friend to rest. Once the great door was opened there was a tray that one pulled out, laid the waste on and then slid it back in, shutting the door and then setting the dials to a higher temperature to destroy whatever was on the tray. As Desmond pulled the tray out, it suddenly hit him that it was just the right size for an average man. He struggled to hoist Kelvin onto the lead platform, crossing his arms over his chest, and had his thoughts confirmed as he noticed that there was only a mere 2-3 inches at either end of Kelvin's body.

"I wonder if this is for cremating the remains of those that don't make it out of here," Desmond asked himself. He looked down on the pale face of his buddy and wondered if he had contracted the "sickness" by having to handle him. "Doesn't make much difference, eh brotha, now that you're gone," he asked a silent Kelvin. "If I've got it, then so be it. Nothing I can do about it now, yea?"

Desmond made sure that Kelvin was straight and even on the tray and then he stepped back, crossed himself and silently said a prayer for the safe delivery of his pal. Then, with a heavy heart, Desmond slid the tray back into the waste disposal system, closed and locked the heavy door and turned the dials up as high as they would go. He heard the soft roar of the machine gearing up for its task and then there was a low, steady hum. Quietly, Desmond turned and left Kelvin behind. He had done all he could. The rest was up to God.

Once back upstairs, Desmond showered and washed his hair. He had thought about putting his clothes in with Kelvin but then realized that even if he did that, he couldn't handle anything else without spreading whatever he might have on him to the new clothes before he showered. So, he had taken off the clothes he'd been wearing, (along with all of Kelvin's and his bedding), put them into large plastic bags, and would incinerate them later. All this was going through his mind as he stood under the hot water of the shower. He leaned his head over, placing the palms of his hands in front of himself on the shower wall, and let the water run down his back. It felt good and was relaxing him until he thought about the same machine that was heating his shower water was also turning his friend into ash. Desmond's head snapped back and he quickly turned off the water. Toweling himself off, he remembered the strong box and the film Kelvin had told him to watch. Again he wondered why Kelvin had never shown it to him before ... never even mentioned it. As he dressed in his bedroom, that was now truly just his, he thought about what might be on the film.

In one of the bookcases in the living room area, Desmond moved several books and pulled out a medium-sized lock box. He'd always known it was there but when he had asked Kelvin about it, all he'd said was that it contained important documents that only concerned Kelvin. Now Desmond knew what those "documents" were and that now they concerned him.

Desmond set up the projector and screen and slowly threaded the film through the gears. He turned off the lights and flicked the on switch and the projector whirred into motion. Desmond sat back on the sofa and waited for the film to begin.

The beginning of the film showed the SWAN logo and said it was one of 6 such films. Desmond leaded forward, "Does that mean there are other bunkers like this one?" he asked out loud. Soon a man appeared on camera and introduced himself as Doctor Candle. He went on to explain something about experiments and a project that had begun in the 1960s. The doctor spoke of several different things that were tested and then he said something that caused Desmond to lean in even more. He said there had been an "incident" and since that incident had occurred the numbers had to be entered into the computer every 108 minutes. One of the last things said was a warning that the computer could never be used for anything but entering the code. It could not be modified so that it could be used for communication. "Modified?" Desmond asked. "How would I ever manage that?" Desmond sat and stared at the blank screen while the film flipped around and around as it ran off of its original spool. The tack-tack-tack sound didn't affect Desmond., He had too much on his mind for that. Slowly though, he reached out and turned the projector off and re-threaded the film so that he could rewind it and watch it again. As the film rewound, Desmond got himself a tablet and pencil. "I think I'd better take some notes," he thought.

The story had taken nearly an hour to relay to Locke, who all the while stood patiently listening. When Desmond was done, he looked at Locke.

Breaking the silence, Locke asked the the question Desmond knew would be coming.

"But how do you know about this bunker?"

Desmond reached into one of the pockets in his coveralls and took out a folded piece of yellow note paper. "This was also in the lock box," Desmond added as he unfolded it and handed it to Locke, who looked it over with deep curiosity, a deep frown forming on his brow.

Locke met Desmond's eyes, "It's a map ... "

"Yea, brotha. That it is."


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Another Day, Brother - Chapter 9

Author: jbdean ©

Rating: G

Summary: A few moments later - same day.

Locke put the map in his pocket as he started back to camp, Desmond following close behind. The two men were silent during the long walk; each deep in his own thoughts.

Upon arriving back at base camp, Locke spotted Jack standing with his back to him by the water trough. Locke quickly approached him.

"Jack?"

Jack turned to face Locke and saw Desmond standing just behind him. His eyes went quickly back and forth between the two. Desmond gave a weak smile.

"Evenin', Brotha," Desmond addressed Jack.

Jack's face began to show the signs of the heartbreak that had been there when Desmond and he last met. He turned away to gain him composure. Locke stepped closer to Jack and pulled the map from his pocket.

"Desmond gave me this. It's a map to the six bunkers on the island." Locke explained.

Slowly Jack looked over to the map in Locke's hand. Taking it in his own hands, he stood studying it for several minutes. "Where did you get this?" Jack turned and asked Desmond directly.

"It was Kelvin's. It was in the bunker. I took it with me when I left ... to find a place to hide out," Desmond explained.

Claire strolled up and seeing Desmond, a new face, asked what was going on.

"This is Desmond, Claire. He's the man that was in the bunker," Locke told her. "Desmond, this is Claire," and not wanting to ignore the baby, "and this is Aaron, Claire's son."

Desmond smiled a warm smile at Claire and Aaron. "You were down there for three years?" she asked him.

"Yea, three long years ... "

Claire blushed a little and smiled back at Desmond.

Jack reached out and took ahold of Locke's arm. "Let's go somewhere to talk about this privately, John." Locke, looking a bit confused slowly nodded his agreement.

"Claire, could you keep Desmond company while Jack and I take care of something? Desmond, okay with you?"

The two nodded their yeses but never took their eyes off one another.

Jack and Locke walked away from the camp and into the jungle a few yards. When they were sure they were alone, Jack began to question Locke about the map, Desmond and how the two had come across each other.

"I tracked him, Jack. I knew he couldn't have gotten too far."

"You just went after him without telling anyone? What if something had happened to you? We wouldn't have know where you were or where to look for you."

"Jack, no offense but I don't think I need check in and out with anyone. You let him go and I didn't think that was a good idea. There's a lot he can tell us."

Jack was quiet for a moment as he thought on what Locke had just told him. "Well ... I do admit that might be the case. He must know more than he told us in the short time he had. But what about this map?"

Jack and Locke looked at the yellow piece of paper with the hand drawn map on it. Clearly there were six bunkers but it seemed there were more than six hatches. "Are all of these bunkers under ground, John?" Jack asked.

"I don't know yet. I haven't really asked the details yet."

"Well, I think it's time that our 'brother' tells us more about what he knows," Jack told Locke as he began to head back to where he had left Desmond with Claire. Suddenly he stopped and turned to face Locke. "One thing ... "

"Yes, Jack?"

"Where did you say you found Desmond ... by his boat?" Locke nodded. "And yet he told you he found the bunker through this map?" Locke nodded again. Jack thought for a moment. "Well, doesn't it seem odd to you that he knew where his boat was and yet he says he only found the bunker by following the map?"

Locke stared long and hard at Jack.

"What are you saying, Jack?" Locke asked. "Are you saying he knew where the bunker was all along because it's by his shipwrecked boat?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

TO BE CONTINUED:


End file.
